


we sit side by side

by boxesofflowers, Eeyoreneedsahug



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Cute, Flu, Fluff, Fluffy, Friendship, M/M, Sick Isak, Sickfic, Tea solves all problems, Vilde is the Kosagruppa Queen, because it is true, caring vilde, confused jonas, friendship fic, the gay (tm), this is a theme in our work, vilde and isak friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxesofflowers/pseuds/boxesofflowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eeyoreneedsahug/pseuds/Eeyoreneedsahug
Summary: When Isak gets the flu and Even can't be there to take care of him, Vilde (of all people) sweeps in with buns and tea. They can tell they're going to be friends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends - The White Stripes

“Wait, you’re with who?” Jonas asks, and Isak laughs, sounding almost drunk.

“Vilde. Princess. My favorite person in the whole world.”

“I thought that was Even.”

“Nah. Nah nah nah. He’s away.”

“I know he is. He called me. How did this happen? What the fuck is going on?”

\--7 hours earlier--

“Hey, Iss.” Even’s voice breaks through the haze of Isak’s fever, crackling through the phone.

“Hey,” he rasps. “Where are you?” He’s hoping Even’s landed in Oslo already. He was supposed to be back from his family trip to Germany today, and Isak’s been waiting until he was home to tell him how truly awful he’s felt for the past week. He must have the flu or something, because he feels like absolute death.

“I’m stuck at the airport in Berlin. The snow is grounding all of the planes. Eskild called me,” Even pauses, as if expecting a response.

“Why?” Isak tries to sound innocent but he knows that Even can always tell when he’s hiding something.

“Because you didn’t! Isak. We’re supposed to tell each other when we’re sick. I mean, I don’t get sick, you get sick, so...you. You’re supposed to tell me.”

“It’s just a cold,” he argues weakly.

“Eskild seems to think it’s something worse. He said he found you lying on the floor. In the kitchen. In your boxers.” Isak sighs. There’s no use denying it.

“It’s not like you can fix it. You’re on vacation. I didn’t want to make you all stressed,” he mumbles grumpily. He rolls over, burying his throbbing head in the pillow. 

“I get concerned.” 

“I’m fine! Don’t worry.” His voice muffled through the pillow, and his shoulders shake with an uncontrolled shiver. 

“I can worry if I want. I have boyfriend authority. I’ve asked Eskild to keep an eye on you. And call me.” There’s white noise in the background of the call, people talking. Isak wonders where in the airport Even is.

“He has work,” Isak protests, though he’s sure Even already knows this.

“He said ‘I have my people’ and then hung up. He has it figured out. I assume. I hope.”

“Ev. I miss you,” he mumbles, feeling the fever start to cloud his mind. “Wish you could be here.”

“Me too, Iss. I’m…” Even takes a deep breath. “I’m sure you’ll get the next best thing.”

\--

About a half an hour later, Isak finds himself stumbling to the door, wrapped in his comforter, the sound of the door bell ringing in his ears. When he reaches the panel by the door, he presses the buzzer to let whoever it is in. 

He doesn’t even care if it’s a serial killer, he just wants the incessant buzzing to stop. He’s too tired to walk back to bed, so he just lies down on the floor, hoping if it is a murderer they’ll be nice enough to realize he’s already dead and just leave him alone. 

What seems like only a moment later, the door swings open.

“Isak! Halla!” It’s a voice that Isak would recognize anywhere, and he moans quietly. Vilde. He’s way too sick to handle her right now, but he knows he doesn’t really have a choice. “What are you doing down there?” She kneels down, putting a cold hand on his shoulder. He flinches.

“I’m tired,” he mumbles, and Vilde shrugs, her hand still resting on his back.

“You should get off the floor,” she says, and he grunts, rubbing his eyes.

“Why are you here?”

“Anything for a member of Kosegruppa. We spread kos, and all alone with the flu is the opposite of koselig.” She’s wearing a lot of pink, Isak notices, and a large scarf that looks like it might swallow her.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Isak says, and she rolls her eyes, grabbing his arm roughly, pulling him into a sitting position. He moans quietly, pressing a hand to his temple.

“I know. But Eskild asked. Eskild’s my favorite. You look disgusting. When’s the last time you washed your hair?”

“M’fine,” he grumbles.

“C’mon, let’s go. I brought tea. And buns. And soup.”

Isak groans and tries to lift himself from the floor. “Nope. I’m good here,” he says after a few seconds of struggling. “Yeah.” 

Vilde shakes her head and grabs his arm again, somehow getting him standing. He wavers slightly, dizzy, but she just points to the couch. He makes it over, almost collapsing and she drags over his comforter, draping it over him unceremoniously. “Stay,” She commands, and sets off to the kitchen rifle through the backpack she’d dropped. It’s pastel, just like her outfit.

“No problem,” Isak laughs slightly before it turns into a coughing fit. “Faen,” he mumbles and wheezes, catching his breath. 

“I think you might have a fever,” Vilde says, walking back over to him, carrying her pink bag over her shoulder. She sets it down heavily in front of him, and sits gingerly on the coffee table.

Isak rolls his eyes. “Nah,” he says with exaggerated sarcasm. 

Vilde nods, smiling. “Ja,” she replies in kind. “I brought tea in a thermos for you. I can make more. You have to drink all of it to feel better.” She pulls it out, handing it to him carefully. He has to admit while he has no plans to actually drink it, the warmth is nice. “Am I allowed to touch you?”

“What? Why?”

“Like, on the face. To see if you have a fever,” she says, like this should be obvious. Isak holds the thermos close to his chest, clinging to the warmth which seems to soothe the ache. 

“You don’t have to see. I do. I have a fever.”

“Yeah, but, how do I know for sure?” Vilde seems a little flustered by the fact that Isak isn’t going along with her checklist of sick day necessities. 

“Vilde. Please,” Isak somehow manages to sound exasperated even though it’s clear he’s suffering.

“Maybe I should call Even, hmm? Or are you going to let me see?” She threatens, crossing her arms.

“Whatever,” Isak sighs, exhausted. Vilde pushes his hair back from his forehead and turns her hand over to test his temperature. Her palm is cold, and Isak shivers.

“Hmmmmm…” she pauses. “I thought it would be easier to tell. I think...you definitely have a fever. Or maybe not. But probably,” she decides, and takes back her hand.

“I know,” Isak would roll his eyes but he’s too tired.

“Ok Mr. Smarts. Drink the tea. Wait my phone-” Her phone is vibrating in her bag, and she fumbles to answer it. “Hei? Oh. Even!”

“Even?” Isak asks, confused. Vilde holds up a finger.

“Uh huh. Yeah. He’s here. Yeah. Bad fever. Very grumpy...Yeah. Oh! Well that’s good...He looks pretty sleepy. Yeah. I’ll make sure he eats before he nods off…” 

Isak makes a rude gesture and grabs for the phone. She holds him back for a moment.

“Oh! He wants to talk. Here,” Vilde says calmly as Isak makes a wild grab for the phone. Finally, she hands it to him, and he sighs, clearing his throat. 

“Are you treating Vilde nice?” Even asks, and just the sound of his voice makes Isak relax.

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

“Mmm, I don’t think so. Be nice, please.”

“I don’t have the energy to be nice.”

“Then you don’t have the energy to be a jerk either.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m going to hang up now. I’ll call back in a couple hours. Be. Nice,” Even says. He hangs up and Isak rolls over, flopping weakly, and hands Vilde back the phone. He closes his eyes, preparing to fall asleep, and she grabs his shoulder suddenly.

“Hey! Stop it,” she chastises, and he sighs, peering up at her from his position.

“What?”

“You have have to eat. Even said so,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Even isn’t here and I’m nauseous. I’m going to sleep,” he murmurs, and Vilde rolls her eyes.

“Look, I will not be murdered by your boyfriend because you died of starvation when it was my job to take care of you.” Isak chokes out a laugh, pushing himself up on his elbows.

“Even wouldn’t murder you.” She clicks her tongue.

“I don’t know,” she says, and reaches into her bag, fishing around for something.

“What makes you think he’d murder you?”

“I don’t know. He’s so tall. And...I don’t know. I’ve heard Jonas say the same thing.” She bites her lip, still digging in her bag.

“Jonas was talking shit about Even?”

“It’s in the eyes. And the eyebrows,” Vilde ignores Isak’s indignant question, and pulls out a brown paper bag, smiling.

“I like his eyebrows,” Isak says defensively, and she opens up the small package, pulling out a bun.

“That’s not the point. He could totally take me down and hide my body. No problem. Easy.” She hands him the still-warm bread, and he takes it reluctantly.

“But he wouldn’t, Vilde.” He takes a tentative bite.

“I don’t want to take any chances, so you’ll eat the buns, and you’ll eat the soup. Simple.”

Isak stares at her unblinkingly for a moment, trying to judge whether or not she’ll back down. When he sees no change in her expression he gives in, taking another bite. She hands him a bowl, and he’s confused for a moment before realizing she brought yet another thermos.

The soup isn’t bad at all, but he’s sick, so the mixture of chicken, broth, and rice tastes unappetizing. He wonders where she got it, whether she made it herself. Probably. 

“You like it?” She asks, almost eager.

“Yeah. It’s...good,” he says, and her face falls slightly. He rushes to reassure her. “Look Vilde...I’m sick. Anything you brought would taste weird.” he pauses for a moment to let that sink in, “I think if I didn’t feel about 15 seconds from puking it would be awesome. It’s...edible, which is an achievement.” He waits for her response.

“Do you really think you’re going to throw up?” She asks, lips curling slightly. He hands her back the still-full bowl.

“Maybe,” he stops and considers for a second when he sees the look on her face, “No?” He finishes, almost asking.

“Ah! Ok, that’s good. I really don’t like pukey people. It’s kind of gross. I told Eskild I didn’t like puke, and he said he weren’t going to throw up, but then you just-” He cuts her off.

“If it happens...I’ll take care of it. It’s fine.” He’s still so tired, his eyes keep slipping closed without his permission. He has to admit the little bit he did eat, though it’s not settling well, has taken the edge off his headache.

“No, I can handle it. It’s my job. Just...want to be prepared.”

“It’s not really your job, nobody’s paying you or anything.”

“I’m under threat of death. Well, fear of murder, I guess. But we talked about that,” she pauses, looking him over. “Even likes you a lot.” He shifts slightly, hugging the still-warm thermos of tea closer to his aching stomach.

“Yeah. I like him too. He’s...sweet. And pretty. And so so nice.” Isak flushes slightly as he realizes he’s said it outloud. Vilde giggles.

“You guys met at a party, right?” She asks, and Isak smiles weakly.

“No, Kosegruppa.” She beams, and shoves his shoulder slightly. He laughs softly.

“No way! Oh my gosh! So, me, telling you to come, made you meet Even?!” She seems so excited, it makes Isak’s smile widen.

“Yeah. I thought you knew.”

“Nei! I did a good job then. One good job as head of Kose,” she says, her tone shifting slightly. 

“You’re a great head,” he says, and she gives him a sad little smile.

“I haven’t done very much. No one really wants to be there unless there’s beer or food or something. I dunno. I’m not very good at it.” Her smile fades, and she sighs quietly.

Isak is surprised Vilde is letting him see this side of her. Usually, she’s all business and demands when they talk, but not now. She looks at her fingers, then back up at him.

“Of course you’re good at it. You got me to hold a christmas party. And buy a christmas tree. Against my will.” She smiles, rolling her eyes. “You care about it. More than most people care about anything. So, that’s something.” 

“Thanks, Isak.” She touches his shoulder. Then, suddenly, she frowns. “Oh, shit! You’re all hot. I’m going to find a thermometer. You should go to sleep.”

Isak doesn’t need to be told twice. As soon as he stops fighting, he’s out like a light.

\--

When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep. All he knows is that his shirt and boxers are soaked in sweat, he’s shivering in a lump on the couch, and Vilde is talking to someone angrily over the phone, pacing in his living room.

He clears his throat, and winces at the new-found pain there. Vilde turns, giving him a smile and a small wave when she sees he’s awake.

“Your friend is _sick_ Jonas. Have some compassion!” She snaps, stopping her pacing for a moment. Isak realizes he feels almost...drunk. Sort of dizzy, and his thoughts are coming slow and broken.

“Vilde…” Isak moans, and she turns to look at him. “I’m so cold.” He stretches out the last word.

“I know,” she says, and turns her attention back to the phone call. “Technically you’re a member of Kosegruppa...Yes!...the christmas party. It was for members only, and you came...Well I’m the head. And this is official Kosegruppa business...Yeah...One second, let me ask.” She turns away from the phone. “Can Magnus come? With Jonas?”

“What? No. Nobody can come. I mean, I don’t know.” His thoughts are so fuzzy, and the room seems to tilt back and forth every time he moves.

“You don’t want your friends?” Vilde asks, confused. She looks at the phone and swears. “He hung up. Sorry, I-”

“No,” Isak blurts out, and seeing the confusion on Vilde’s face, tries to explain further. “I’m just not fun right now. Plus, I...I don’t need any help. I’m fine. I don’t want them to think I’m weak.”

“That seems like some toxic masculinity,” she declares, slipping her phone back into her pocket. 

“More like ‘I can never seem to help you back so why should I make you help me,’” Isak mutters.

“Oh. Well…” She pauses, and runs her fingers through her hair. “You don’t really like me, so I thought -”

“No! I-of course I like you. Why...what would make you think I didn’t?” 

“I don’t know. It just seemed like it.” She shrugs.

“Well, trust me, I’d rather have you here than Magnus right now.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not, I’m serious.” He really is. At least Vilde is putting in some kind of effort, even if it is a little misguided. Jonas would just be uncomfortable, Magnus would try to get him into some kind of conversation, despite his clear lack of coherence. “If you wanna help me out just, uh, this might sound weird. Possibly.”

“What?”

“Just...cuddle? With me?” When she doesn’t immediately respond he starts to backpedal, feeling his face flush in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m cold, and usually Even - I mean, you’re not Even, but I-”

“Of course I will! Faen, I thought it was going be something gross,” she says, smiling. He gives a relieved laugh.

She slips off her shoes and pulls her feet up onto the couch, curling next to him. Almost immediately, he sinks down to rest his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes.

“You feel really hot, actually, Isak,” she says, and he hums softly, foggy mind not really able to formulate a response.

“Nah, I’m chill. I’m cool,” he mumbles, and she frowns.

“I don’t know. I think you have...what is it, when someone has a fever but they feel cold?” He presses himself closer against her shoulder.

“Dunno,” he slurs, and she rubs his back.

“Well, that’s what you have.”

“You smell good.” She giggles.

“Yeah? Thanks.”

\---

“Vilde?” Isak asks as he wakes up. She looks over at him from her phone.

“Hmmm?” she responds, and he presses his cheek more firmly against her shoulder. She moves her hand up and down his arm, and he closes his eyes.

“You’re my best friend,” he proudly proclaims, and she smiles.

“I think you have a fever,” she says, looking both skeptical and amused. She feels his forehead again, but he pushes her hand away.

“Nope. Straight up. Best friend,” Isak shakes his head slowly. “I want to watch a movie.”

Vilde rolls her eyes but turns on the TV, starting to flip through Netflix. Every so often Isak will make a small sound at the back of his throat when he sees something he likes, but it’s mostly based on how colorful the little poster is. So far he’s picked Teletubbies and a documentary about tomato farming, so Vilde takes matters into her own hands.

“This has the gay,” Vilde mumbles, clicking on the title. The movie starts to load, and she hands him one of the buns from her brown lunch bag. He accepts it reluctantly, taking a small bite.

“What does that mean?” Isak asks, and Vilde laughs.

“It means we’re watching it.” 

“But why is it necessary to have ‘the gay’?” Isak won’t let his question go.

“I want you to feel comfortable,” Vilde teases.

Isak hits her shoulder, but relaxes into the couch as the movie begins. 

\---

“Even called. He said you weren’t answering?” Jonas prompts. Isak has finally picked up his phone after almost 12 missed calls. He ended up falling asleep about halfway through the movie, and Vilde’s phone had died.

“We’re having a great time! I feel so much better!” Isak laughs into the phone.

“He’s still sick!” Vilde calls in Isak’s direction.

“Wait, who are you with?” Jonas asks, and Isak laughs, sounding almost drunk.

“Vilde. Princess. My favorite person in the whole world.”

“I thought that was Even.”

“Nah. Nah nah nah. He’s away.”

“I know he is. He called me. How did this happen? What the fuck is going on?”

“Long story.”

**Author's Note:**

> Send us prompts [HERE](http://poeandbeaux.tumblr.com/ask)!  
> [Chloe’s tumblr](http://chloebeaux.tumblr.com)!  
> [Priscilla’s tumblr ](http://boxesofflowers.tumblr.com)!


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